


the stars on wensley place

by jungwooed



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Aged up characters, Country Boys, Depression, IKEA, Kisses, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Some Swearing, Some light angst, Strangers to Friends to Lovers, also minor sexual references, chenle is annoying, domestic boyfies, i love renjun so much ohmygod, jaemin is a little sad, jaemin is a player, jaemin is so chaotic, jisung is famous, married!markhyuck, really cliche, renjun is a real special boy, renjun isn't what he seems, sheer obliviousness, tons of fluff, with a dream
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-16
Updated: 2019-10-20
Packaged: 2020-05-13 01:23:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 18,910
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19240975
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jungwooed/pseuds/jungwooed
Summary: Jaemin is guided by stars that shine during the day





	1. lost and found

Ever since he was little, Jaemin dreamed of moving to the countryside. He pictured a little white house with a straw roof and pretty flower baskets. Living in his little white house was a faceless wife and a plump baby boy in a bassinet. Every morning he would wake up before sunrise to bake soft loaves of bread and harvest heirloom tomatoes from the garden. In his daydreams, Jaemin was happier than he had ever been in his life. He found his own perfect pocket of paradise within his imagination and most days he swore it kept him sane.

 

Unfortunately, Jaemin doesn’t live in the countryside in a little white house. He lives in the city, and it’s a 40 minute drive from clean air. Every day, Jaemin mourns the loss of his idyllic childhood dream. He let himself down in a big way. He can’t stand to look at pictures of himself as a child because the look of hope in that boys eyes is just too foreign and too unfulfilled. 

When Jaemin was a kid, he never would’ve imagined himself working at IKEA, serving Swedish meatballs to college freshmen and wheezing men with big round pot bellies. He thought he was too good for that type of life. His ignorant five-year-old self must’ve thought he was some sort of deity, destined for whatever life his heart desired. And what Jaemin’s heart desired was that little white house in the countryside. 

 

Jaemin knows he’s self-absorbed and arrogant and unfeeling and all sorts of nasty things. All of his past relationships ended the same way: a sharp slap from a dainty hand with perfectly manicured nails. He got sick of the same slap over and over again. Maybe that’s why he stopped trying for a real relationship. Maybe that’s why he stopped bringing women home from flashy parties and started fooling around with nameless, flirty boys. Boys never expected much from him. Jaemin could just stand there silently and he knows he could still get some poor young tipsy thing to suck him off. Girls always wanted him to work for it but he doesn’t have the fight in him anymore.

 

It’s fairly typical of him to spend a Friday night getting drunk after his shift at IKEA. Getting drunk makes him think a little less deeply and the bartender had become a good friend. His name is Mark Lee. He’s a gangly, sinewy man and certainly not Jaemin’s type. It wouldn’t matter anyway, because Mark is intensely in love with his husband and they’re in the process of adopting a little girl from China. Jaemin has to hold himself back from rolling his eyes and ordering another round of shots when he hears that. 

 

Mark lives in the countryside. Jaemin imagines his house; it’s white and standing prim on a grassy hillside, framed by a blue sky smattered with stars that shine even during the day. Stinging jealousy creeps up his throat like bile. 

 

One night, as Mark is droning on while cleaning shot glasses, he asks him a question that makes Jaemin’s ears perk up.

 

“You know, my neighbor is trying to sell his house because he wants to be closer to his city job. You always talk about wanting a house out in the middle of nowhere. You interested?” The offer knocks the wind out of Jaemin’s lungs.

“Of course I’m fucking _ interested _ ,” he slurps some foam off the top of his beer unattractively. 

“But it doesn’t matter, it’s too inconvenient.” Jaemin waves his hand dismissively, trying to make it seem like he’s not as affected as he truly is. Mark sees through this easily.

 

“Bro, Hyuckie and I just drive out here for work every day, it’s not too hard. Lots of people do it.” 

 

“I don’ care Markles,” Jaemin might be a tad drunk at this point. “It’s just not gonna happen, mkay? Get it into your thick skull,” He feels that Mark is crossing a line. Or maybe the stabbing pains in his chest are just making him defensive. 

 

“Jaemin, you’re one of the most self-destructive people I’ve ever met! Why not just take the chance? It could be one of the best decisions you ever make,” Mark tries to keep his cool but Jaemin notices his hands tensing around the glass he’s drying and how strained his speech sounds. Mark cares about him and Jaemin hates the feeling. 

 

“Fuck off, Lee. I’m done with false hope. I’m done with stupid kid dreams. I’m done with your shitty beer,” He pushes the empty glass off the counter so it shatters at Mark’s feet. Jaemin notices that his shoes are polished. He wonders if his beau does it for him every morning after kissing his eyelids open. He wonders if Mark has a garden in his backyard. He wonders if Mark has the happiness he thought he was owed as a child. The momentary quietness that falls over the bar makes Jaemin feel everything a little more intensely. The walls are closing in and Mark’s big, accusatory eyes stare at him like T.J. Eckleburg. He decides to do what he’s been doing for years now: he runs.

 

That night, Jaemin dreams of a blue sky smattered with stars that shine during the day. 

 

⭐️⭐️⭐️

 

Jaemin doesn’t know if Mark likes sourdough but he just crosses his fingers and hopes it can win him back their friendship. Knowing Mark, he probably wouldn’t even acknowledge anything had ever happened if Jaemin just pretended too. But he’s starting to get sick of it. All the running away and miming that he’s done in the past years has only led him down an unfortunate path (that ends in the city, at IKEA). Jaemin has made a mid-year resolution: to pursue. The truth is, Jaemin had never really been an active participant in his own life. 

 

Things just sort of happen to him. Whatever he gets, he takes without thought. That’s how he got his job at IKEA, actually. His mom is friends with the manager so he didn’t even need to do an interview. 

 

This time, he was taking matters into his own hands. He was going to bake this loaf of bread, go to the bar during Mark’s shift, and make peace with him…

 

after two months of complete avoidance. 

 

Yes, yes he knows he’s a terrible human being. But at least he’s doing something now, right? Right?? Jaemin sighs as he takes the pan out of the oven. The bread smells delicious. He doesn’t think there could be anything better than the fresh smell of bread straight out of the oven. He relishes in it for a moment, closing his eyes and breathing in with a slight smile. 

 

“Jaemin, has anyone ever told you you’re a total freak?” a voice shatters his happy little bubble. 

 

“Your mom last night, you little shit,” he says back with a piercing glare.

 

“God, why is my roommate is so nasty?” Chenle whines at the ceiling. 

 

“Well, I’m not gonna be your roommate for much longer,” Jaemin says bitterly. In one week, Chenle will have been his roommate for three years. But, in four days, he’s moving out to be with his beautiful, gorgeous, talented, amazing, one of a kind, caring boyfriend: the famous dancer Park Jisung. How someone like Chenle was able to land a boyfie that perfect is beyond Jaemin. 

 

“Aww come on, Jaems. We both know you’ll find other ways to preoccupy yourself,” Chenle has a devilish glint in his eye. “What about that boy you brought home yesterday? You seemed to have a great time with him!” 

 

Chenle is being sarcastic. Jaemin, in fact, did not have a great time with him. It was a boy from work, a cute cashier with too-long bangs and a friendly smile. His name was Jisoo, he thinks. Last night, Jisoo had slapped him, yelled some heated words about him needing to find Jesus, then waltzed out the door with a loud slam. 

 

“Listen, Lele, that was  _ not  _ my fault,” Jaemin says. 

 

“I highly doubt that.”

 

“It wasn’t!” Jaemin replies defensively. “I thought he was giving me boning signals but he genuinely just wanted to watch The Princess Bride,” Jaemin sighed heavily. He regrets putting his hand down Jisoos pants during the fire swamp scene. A lot. For so many reasons. 

 

“Maybe you should, like, try and get a boyfriend that you actually like and don’t just want to have sex with?” Chenle rolls his eyes and grabs his keys.

 

“Where are you going?” Jaemin asks, eyeing Chenle’s black skinny jeans. They’re his I’m-going-out pants and Jaemin is nosy.

 

“The bar on 16th street with Sungie,” Chenle says dismissively. Jaemin definitely isn’t invited. Good thing he doesn’t care. 

 

“Great! I’m headed there too, so wait up,” Jaemin wraps his loaf of sourdough in a cloth and puts it in a little basket. It looks so cute, like a little sleeping puffball. Mark better appreciate his baby or their friendship is definitely over for good. 

 

“Jaems, no. Tonight is date night and you’ve already ruined the last three,” Chenle says disdainfully.

 

“What do you mean? Jisung loved playing monopoly with me last week,” Jaemin pouted at his roommate.

 

“We were supposed to be cuddling and giving each other nose kisses and doing other cute boyfriend things,” Chenle shot him another withering glare. “Not playing a four hour game of monopoly with my roommate who also has an affinity for cheating at board games.” 

 

“You love me,” Jaemin sends him a heart and Chenle rolls his eyes again.

 

“Just get the fucking bread and lets go”

 

⭐️⭐️⭐️

 

Jaemin felt a little nervous. That was pretty out of the ordinary. Normally, he was confident. That was his whole thing. He just throws on a stunning smile and flirts his way through situations. He’s always tried to seem laid-back and chill. Someone who radiates effortless swagger. 

 

Basically, he wants to be a frat boy heartbreaker at age 26. 

 

So, he’s not really sure how to handle his racing heartbeat. God, he’s being _ so _ uncool right now. Especially since he’s entering a bar with a basket of bread clutched to his chest. 

 

He walks up to the bar, expecting to see Mark throwing around bottles or mixing things with other things or cleaning the countertop. What he didn’t expect is to see is an unfamiliar woman serving up drinks at the bar. 

 

“Hello there,” she says with a charming smile. Jaemin is taken aback by how pretty she is. He glances down at her name tag that reads  _ Irene _ . “My eyes are up here, sir.” 

 

Jaemin begins to sweat.

 

“Oh, no, I mean- that’s really not-”  _ dear lord.  _

 

“Calm down there,” she laughs a little, her ponytail bouncing with each shake of her shoulders. “I was just having a little fun.”

 

_ Is she flirting? _

 

Irene leans over the counter and fixes Jaemin with an immobilizing stare

 

_ She’s definitely flirting. _

 

“I’m actually looking for Mark Lee? He usually works Friday nights,” Jaemin says a little apprehensively. Irene leans back behind the bar with a huff, obviously disappointed by Jaemin’s lack of a reaction. 

 

“He left a couple of weeks ago,” her charming tone is replaced by icy indifference.

 

“No, there must be some sort of mistake,” Jaemin is panicking a little.  _ Why would Mark leave? He loved working here! _

 

“There isn’t a mistake, actually,” Irene says. “He and his husband adopted a little girl so he’s on paternity leave.” 

 

_ Fuck, that’s right. Mark Lee is an angel.  _

 

“Do you know where I could find him?” Jaemin asks, bordering on desperate at this point. 

 

“Are you asking me for his address?” Irene seems alarmed and Jaemin is sure he looks like a major creep right now.

 

“Just any way to contact him or get to him, that’s all I need,” Jaemin is ready to get on his knees and plead.

 

“Down dog,” Irene gives him a look of disgust. “He lives out on Wensley Place. At the end of the block, I think. It’s out past the hazelnut farms on the way to the coast.” Jaemin fumbles for his phone and types out everything Irene just told him, word for word. 

 

“Thank you so much,” Jaemin grabs his basket and pulls Chenle out of the bar by the scruff of his neck, ignoring his screeches about ruining another one of his date nights. It’s only 5:30. If they leave now, Jaemin could make it to Mark’s house before dinnertime (he doesn’t want to disturb Mark’s precious family). 

 

“If I drive you out to the middle of nowhere, what do I get in return?” Chenle nags at him, already behind the wheel and starting the engine. 

 

“You get a scenic drive and some fresh air,” Jaemin replies.

 

“I’m only doing this because I feel bad about moving out,” Chenle says with a sigh, slipping on his aviators. 

 

“Yeah, yeah whatever,” Jaemin says with an unnecessary amount of sass. “Pass me the aux cord I wanna listen to the 1975.”

 

“I hate that you have impeccable taste in music,” Chenle groans and hands it to him with a small smile.  

 

⭐️⭐️⭐️

 

It took about an hour to get to Wensley Place, courtesy of construction traffic. But now, Chenle is driving down the street, getting towards the very last house settled in the curve of a little cul-de-sac. Jaemin feels his heart grow heavy at the sights around him. In the distance, he can see grassy hills that hide the ocean from view. To the east, there are long green fields that stretch out for miles and miles. Around him, the houses are squat and quaint. There are flower baskets on the windows, spilling over with colorful blooms. There are trees scattered around the yards. Some of them are very tall, with thick, knobby trunks. Jaemin can’t even imagine how old a tree like that must be. One of them has a crude treehouse built into it. It’s basically just a platform nestled up in the branches with some boards placed on the trunk as a ladder. Jaemin wonders if that’s very safe. 

 

“How do we know which house?” Chenle asks.

 

“Irene said it’s somewhere at the end of the street,” Jaemin says with a dreamy voice, enamored with the view from his window.

 

“Yeah, but which one. Should we just knock on a random door?” 

 

But Jaemin doesn’t hear him. Because there it is. Right in the middle of the little cul-de-sac at the end of Wensley Place. It’s the white house from his dream, shining like a beacon of light at the end of a dark tunnel. It’s surrounded by emerald green grass that’s overrun by daffodils. There’s a plum tree with a full plume of white blossoms. Around the back, Jaemin can see a little bit of a vegetable garden. On the other side, an unruly grape vine snakes up a trellis. Rather than bright pink or orange blooms in the flower baskets, there are bushels of star jasmine, stretching down the sides of the basket and hanging down so low they nearly touch the ground. Jaemin’s breath catches in his throat. It’s beautiful. It’s everything he ever wanted. It must be Mark’s. 

 

“That’s the house,” Jaemin says quietly, his grip on the handle of his basket tightens. “I just know it’s there.”

 

“How do you know?”

 

“I just feel that’s where I need to be,” Jaemin shrugs, trying to play off this unexplainable spiritual experience he’s having right now. He’s here, this is the little corner of his mind that he escapes to whenever things in his normal life got a little difficult. 

 

This is the place he feels the most at peace, so why is he so nervous? 

 

Chenle parks the car on the street, right in front of the house. He gives Jaemin a confused look because  _ why is he acting so weird?  _ Jaemin opens the car door with a shaky hand and makes his way up to the front porch. As soon as he left the car, he was hit by the smell of jasmine. Usually he hated things that were too perfumey. It gives him a headache. Yet, the smell of those jasmine flowers did nothing but calm his nerves and remind him to breathe in deep. He reaches the front door and knocks five times. No answer. However, he hears someone moving around inside. It sounds like they’re cooking. He knocks eight times now. 

 

“Coming!” A voice calls from inside the house. It’s definitely not Mark’s. It sounds too high pitched and slightly melodic. Pretty, sure, but unfamiliar. Suddenly, there’s a boy that Jaemin has never seen before standing in front of him with a cornflower blue apron on and a dash of flour on his cheek. He’s fairly small, not actually that short but he’s so skinny he seems much tinier than he really is. He has a soft face without many sharp angles. But his eyes are piercing enough to make up for his soft facial structure. His hair is fluffy and brown and he should probably get a haircut soon, Jaemin thinks. He’s also wearing glasses. They’re round and rimmed with a thin band of silver. 

 

He’s gorgeous. He must be Mark’s husband. 

 

“Hello there,” the boy (Donghyuck?) says with a tinkling laugh.  _ Oh boy he’s so cute.  _ “Can I help you?”

 

“Yes, I think maybe so,” Jaemin said with a bright smile, praying to something above that this boy doesn’t notice the perspiration forming on his upper lip. “Is Mark home?”

 

“Mark Lee?” The boy asks with a little tilt of his head.  _ Wow he’s really very cute. _

 

“Yes. This is his house, right?” Jaemin felt so sure, but now the look of confusion on this boys face is worrying him. “Aren’t you his husband?”

 

The laugh he receives in response is worth any feelings of humiliation. 

 

“No, absolutely not. I’m his neighbor, Renjun,” he says with a little gleam of humor in his eye. “Mark and Donghyuck live two doors down from me, in that brown house with the hydrangeas in front.” Renjun points at a house with a thatched roof and a baby blue door. It’s nice, but it’s not Jaemin’s dream. He feels relieved that Mark doesn’t actually have everything he could possibly want. 

 

“Thank you. I’m sorry for interrupting your evening,” Jaemin says charmingly. If this boy isn’t Mark’s husband he’s still fair game for flirting, right?

 

Renjun looked unimpressed. He’s so pretty, Jaemin is sure he gets strange men trying to get with him all the time. He has a sudden urge to leave, give Renjun the impression he isn’t one of them. 

 

“It wasn’t a problem and you didn’t interrupt anything,” Renjun says good-naturedly. 

 

“Well- um. Thanks. For the help and everything,” Jaemin scratches the back of his neck. “I better get goin—” 

 

“Would you like to stay for dinner?” Renjun intercepts quickly. “I’ve made more food than I could eat in a week and you and your friend probably have a long drive back to the city.”

 

“How’d you know we’re from the city?” 

 

“A lucky guess.”

  
  
  
  
  
  
  



	2. in your eyes

Somehow, after just meeting Renjun about ten minutes prior, Jaemin and Chenle are seated at his dining table. The conversation is dominated by Chenle, Jaemin feels a bit shy in the face of such perfection. He has been using eagle eyes, trying to find some flaw in Renjun. However, his skin is beautifully clear, his house is clean, and he smells like rosemary. So, he’s pretty much the most incredible person Jaemin has ever seen.

 

Stepping into Renjun’s house feels like being transported back in time. There isn’t a single piece of complex technology in sight. No television, cell phone, or computer. There’s only a mint green rotary phone on a coffee table in the living room. When Chenle asked about it, Renjun just laughed and told him it’s only for decoration. 

 

The house is only one floor. The living room, dining room, and kitchen are all open. There are two more rooms down a small hall, which Jaemin assumes are the bathroom and Renjun’s bedroom. The walls are all an aged off-white color, with little cracks that he can see Renjun has tried to cover. He has artwork hanging up. They’re all paintings or charcoal drawings of various plants. Jaemin recognizes the jasmine in the painting hanging over the fireplace as the flowers planted outside his window. There isn’t much furniture, just a small couch and coffee table in the living room with a big lamp. There’s also a wooden dining table surrounded by rigid chairs with floral cushions. 

 

The best room, Jaemin thinks, is the kitchen. There are dried herbs hanging down from the ceiling over the sink. Sitting on the counter, there are baskets of fresh fruits and vegetables near a wooden cutting board that is stained red from the juice of many strawberries. Copper pots and pans hang on hooks over the stove, clearly well taken care of, because they shine in the sunlight. 

 

Turns out, Renjun is an amazing cook, too. Jaemin isn’t surprised at all.

 

“I wish Sungie knew how to make food like this,” Chenle says, stuffing his face with vegetable stew and baked potato. “All he can make is instant ramen in the microwave.” Renjun laughs, and it’s loud. Jaemin actually winces a bit. But, it sounds so joyous and sincere that it really doesn’t matter. 

 

“Is ‘Sungie’ your boyfriend?” Renjun asks Chenle with genuine interest. Jaemin has never seen someone so intent on learning about another person. It’s refreshing. Jaemin just nods along to conversations and waits for his turn to say something about himself. Being around Renjun was making him realize the extent of his selfishness. 

 

“Yup,” Chenle finally finishes chewing, “he’s a dancer. You might know him. His name is Park Jisung.”

 

“I’m sure I’d know him if I were to see him,” Renjun says kindly, probably just avoiding hurting Chenle’s feelings. Chenle seems satisfied with this answer, though and continues eating the spread that Renjun had laid out on the table. There’s way too much food for the three of them, Jaemin hasn’t even tried half the dishes yet. Renjun had plates of various roasted vegetables, fresh tomatoes with pepper, a basket of crusty rolls, baked potatoes, lemon herb chicken, two tureens of soup, and a plate of assorted fruits scattered over the table. There is so much food that there’s barely enough room for their dinner plates. Jaemin hasn’t eaten like this since Christmas. 

 

“So, Renjun,” Jaemin interjects, “what do you do?”

 

“I do lots of things,” Renjun says apprehensively. “I tend to my garden, I sell produce at farmers markets, I cook, I knit, and I provide... special services to those who need it.”

 

_ What does that mean??? _

 

Chenle doesn’t seem to think anything is particularly strange about this, he just keeps inhaling his food. It sticks in Jaemin’s mind all throughout dinner, though. _ Is he a prostitute? He looks too sweet for that. Maybe he’s like… a personal trainer or something. No. He has noodle arms so that can’t be it. Maybe he’s some sort of counselor.  _ Jaemin spends so much time speculating about what he could have meant by that one sentence that he doesn’t notice when Chenle and Renjun start making their way towards the door. 

 

“Uhh, hey bud,” Chenle snaps in front of his face, “are you coming or what?” Jaemin stands up so quickly that his chair falls down behind him with a loud  _ thunk.  _ He sees Renjun cringe from the corner of his eye and he feels like throwing himself into a void. Jaemin scrambles to pick up the chair but his hip knocks against the table and his silverware clangs onto the floor. 

 

“Hey, don’t worry I’ll pick it up later,” Renjun puts a hand on his shoulder and guides him towards the door.  _ Yep, I blew it. He never wants me back here again.  _

 

“I’m sorry, I’m not usually so clumsy,” Jaemin looks at Renjun. It’s the first time he’s actually looked him in the eyes. They’re really dark, his irises are so brown they might as well be black. But, they’re shiny. Little twinkles beam at him from Renjun’s eyes, fading in and out in little bursts like they’re playing peek-a-boo. Jaemin hasn’t ever seen anything like it. Renjun stares right back at him and Jaemin wonders if he sees something marvelous in his eyes, too. It’s hard to tell because Renjun’s expression remains as serene as ever.

 

“It’s no issue,” Renjun tears his eyes away and smiles at something behind Jaemin’s shoulder. “We all have our shortcomings.”

 

⭐️⭐️⭐️

 

Eventually, Jaemin found himself outside Mark’s house as Chenle waits in the car. It’s the brown one with the baby blue door and hydrangeas in front. Already, Jaemin could hear noises coming from inside. High-pitched wails permeate the calm and balmy air on Wensley Place. He can hear voices, too. They’re loud and strained and Jaemin feels a giggle bubbling up because he knows it’s Mark.

 

“Hyuckie, I can’t find the binky! Can’t you let her… I don’t know, suck on your thumb or something?” 

 

“Why do I have to do it, huh? Why do I have to do all the hard parenting jobs?”

 

“Well, I _ am  _ the one who gets real paychecks around here…”

 

“Duck off, Lee! It’s not my fault casting agencies don’t know true talent when they see it!” 

 

Jaemin decides now is a good time to cut off the conversation, so he knocks. Huffy footsteps make their way over to the door, Jaemin is a little afraid for his life. Then, it swings open to reveal a person Jaemin has never seen before. He’s really handsome, with chubby cheeks and tanned skin. He has thick thighs, Jaemin notes. He stands with his hip jutted out and arms folded. He can see why Mark is always gushing over him, he’s gorgeous. 

 

“Can I help you?” Donghyuck asks, eyeing him critically. He probably noticed the fact that Jaemin was just checking him out, but he doesn’t say anything. He looks pissed, though. That most likely has more to do with Mark than anything else. 

 

“I’m looking for Mark,” Jaemin puts on his best smile. “I’m a friend from the bar and I have something to give him.” 

 

“MARK,” Donghyuck turns to the inside of the house and yells, “DOOR!” Then, Jaemin sees Mark’s head peeking out from around a corner. He has something on his chest. It’s bulky and Jaemin wonders if he buffed up at the gym or something. As Mark approaches, Jaemin realizes Mark is still as skinny as ever. He has a baby carrier strapped to his chest. There’s a little head poking out the top, and Mark is gently petting it’s peach fuzz hair. 

 

“I found the binky,” Mark says to Donghyuck. Donghyuck uncrosses his arms and leans in to peck at the top of the baby’s head and Jaemin almost suffocates with the fondness that Mark looks at them. 

 

“Do you want me to take her while you talk to your friends?”

 

“No, it’s alright,” Mark says with big heart eyes. “She’s asleep so it’s best to leave her be.”

 

“Okay. I’m gonna go take a shower,” Donghyuck slaps Mark’s ass on his way out. Mark lets out an embarrassed groan.

 

“Sorry about that dude,” he finally addresses them. “Hyuck is quite the character.”

 

“You guys make a cute couple,” Jaemin replies, feeling a bit awkward. Luckily, Mark seems touched. 

 

“Wow. You mean that bro?” Jaemin is worried he’s going to start crying.  _ Damn this baby must be doing dangerous things to him. _

 

“Yeah, man,” Jaemin looks down at Mark’s slippers. “Listen, I came here to apologize. For two months ago…”

 

“Bro, it’s totally fine,” Mark says. “I was just worried we would fall out of contact forever, you know?” As he’s talking, he’s looking down at the baby. He’s bouncing up and down a little on the balls of his feet and grinning like a fool. It stirs a deep longing within Jaemin.

 

“What’s her name?” 

 

“She’s our little Minsun,” Mark coos, more towards the baby than Jaemin. He’s in pain. Watching this hurts. He can feel his resentment towards Mark making an appearance. He forces it down with a smile. 

 

“She’s a real cutie,” Jaemin says under his breath. He shoves the basket with his beautiful sourdough into Mark’s hands. “Here, have this. It’s a peace offering.”

 

“Is this bread?” Mark is laughing and Jaemin doesn’t understand why. He made it himself. It’s a perfectly good gift. Mark can’t appreciate the little things now that he has God’s fucking pride and joy cradled in his arms. 

 

“Yep. It’s sourdough,” Jaemin says, his words clipped and cold. “It’s getting late and I need to get back to the city so have a good night.” He turns his back on Mark and his pretty brown house with a thatched roof and his baby blue door. He decides he’s not going to come back. Everything on Wensley Place seems to beckon him. The jasmine smell hanging in the air, the twinkles in Renjun’s eyes, and Mark’s happy little family. They all seem to whisper to him:  _ this is what you could have. You can be happy, too.  _ But Mark was right. Jaemin is self-destructive and scared. A real coward. Constantly running away from opportunity and just letting the dark side of the world swallow him whole. This place is dangerous, though. If he spends too much time here he’s going to give in. 

 

“Hey, Jaems,” Mark calls as he’s opening the gate. “You sure you don’t want the house I was telling you about?”

 

_ That’s right. The house.  _

 

“Which one is it?” He yells back, something in the back of his head telling him  _ no, it’s a stupid dream. _

 

“The blue one right over there,” Mark points to a house a few doors down, on the other side of Renjun’s. “It’s still for sale.”

 

_ No, Jaemin. You can’t. _

 

The house is different from the others on Wensley Place. It isn’t squat and plump, It’s three stories with a white ladder leading up to balconies on the second and third floor. It looks quite peculiar, like some builder got the measurements wrong and compressed the sides of it too much. It looks like a freak of nature, skinny and overgrown with weedy plants and boxed in by a rotting fence. But Jaemin thinks that in that moment, he fell a little bit in love. It isn’t white and there’s no beautiful vegetable garden or flowers. It’s as abandoned as can be and he has no wife or child to share the space with. But something about it still felt like home. 

 

“Actually, it’s not for sale anymore.” 

 

_ No. More. Running. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hullo again! enjoy this chapter, lovelies. I had fun writing it. If you're reading this, you should drink sum water. hydration is key my friends. sorry this is a bit short, I'll update a longer one next time to make up for it.
> 
> ((also there'll be a lot more renmin interaction next time but you didn't hear it from me))


	3. moving day

Jaemin has only moved once in his life: from his childhood home to his apartment with Chenle. He remembers feeling like he was starting over, like he could go by a different name and dye his hair pink and get a sleeve tattoo and no one would think anything of it. He could be like the people he always idolized on TV. Like Iron Man! Or James Bond. Or anyone equally as cool. However, Chenle had already been a close friend for nine years and the apartment was three blocks away from his parents’ house. Just in case he wanted to visit his hamster (his landlord didn’t allow pets). But Jaemin still felt the freedom all the same. 

 

Now, he feels freer than ever. In between shifts at IKEA, he spends his time feverishly packing, labeling, taping, smiling. He doesn’t think he could get rid of this ridiculous grin if he tried. 

 

He thinks a lot as he works. He thinks about the skinny blue house with its balconies and untamed grass. He thinks about Mark, Donghyuck, and their little baby Minsun. But mostly, he thinks about his new neighbor. Jaemin can’t help but feel a little nervous at the thought of spending so much time in Renjun’s vicinity. Should he bake him some bread to make a good impression as his neighbor? Should he say nothing and just leave him alone? Is Renjun gay? All these questions swirl around in Jaemin’s brain, putting strain on his heart as he tapes up the last cardboard box. 

 

_ Wow. I’m actually doing this. _

 

His mom didn’t take it well when Jaemin told her. She started wailing about how her baby boy is so grown up and moving away for good. It took about 20 minutes before Jaemin could calm her down enough to explain the house is only an hour drive from the city. She brightened up after that. Jaemin wonders if she has half a clue what kinds of things he got up to as a teenager. If she did, she wouldn’t think he’s her sheltered little angel anymore.

 

Since Jaemin doesn’t have a car, but still needs to get to work five days a week, his dad gave him his 2005 turquoise toyota corolla… On the condition that he calls his mother twice a week. These are terms Jaemin begrudgingly accepts. 

 

Then, with less fuss than he initially thought, Jaemin is driving towards his new life at Wensley Place, trailed by a lumbering moving truck. He has the windows rolled down so the wind blows through his hair. He feels like crying. Or maybe he feels like singing. Or screaming. He really can’t tell. All he knows is that he may burst with the sheer pressure of his emotions. Jaemin wonders if anyone has ever gone into cardiac arrest from feeling too much. It doesn’t help that Jaemin hasn’t let himself  _ feel _ in so long. And now, he’s facing more change than he’s ever had to deal with before and he has the country air in his lungs and his neighbor smells like rosemary and he feels so, so much. It’s different; it’s scary. It’s so unlike himself to be this bold. Jaemin keeps wondering if it’s too late. He could cancel his loan with the bank, get his apartment back with a few sweet words to his landlord, and forget all about the blue house and its mess of knotty weeds. 

 

But he’s not going to do that. Jaemin doesn’t think he could ever turn back now. 

 

When he arrives at his new home on Wensley Place, the street is as still as can be. Well, at first glance, that is. As Jaemin looks closer, he sees kids playing up in a rickety tree house, carving their initials into the trunk with a pocketknife. There’s a barefoot woman in a sundress watering her yellow rose bushes, she smiles and waves at Jaemin as he passes. One more figure catches his eye, standing outside the plump white house at the end of the street. He’s brushing his hair out of his face and pulling at his clothes nervously. He has a wide-brimmed straw hat on his head that he fixes, deems good enough, and then fixes again. Jaemin smiles to himself and pulls into the gravel driveway of the blue house, his  _ home _ . 

 

As soon as Jaemin gets out, Renjun is standing in front of him. 

 

“FUCKIN HECK,” Jaemin yells out, clutching his heart with one hand.  _ How did Renjun get over here so quickly?  _

 

“I’m so, so sorry,” he says while fiddling with the hem of his shirt. “I have a bad habit of popping up from nowhere.” 

 

“Well it’s a good thing I enjoy your company, then,” Jaemin prays for a sign that Renjun is gay...

 

...And his prayers are answered immediately. Renjun’s ears heat up in an instant, a blooming red that’s starting to spread down to his cheeks and neck. Maybe God really does exist. Jaemin makes a mental note to go to church this Sunday.

 

“I was wondering if you’d like some help with the move,” Renjun says, obviously trying to change the subject to something more civil. Something more suited for conversation between two virtual strangers. Even though Jaemin is disappointed by this development, he respects the boundary. Until he’s ready to push it again. 

 

“I think I’ve got a handle on things,” Jaemin says. “I don’t have many belongings and I don’t want to trouble you.”

 

“That’s ridiculous,” Renjun scoffs. “I’m the one who offered, wasn’t I? Plus, I want to get to know my new neighbor.”

 

“Well, I can’t argue with that,” Jaemin says and gestures for Renjun to come with him to talk to the movers. He couldn’t afford the full moving service where they help you set up your furniture, so the two buff men were just throwing boxes out onto the curb. When they’re finished, Jaemin gives them a tip that is probably too generous for the amount of care they put into his possessions. He catches Renjun giving him mooney eyes after that. He looks very cute today. The season is tilting precariously between spring and summer, momentary stretches of heat being washed out by day-long rain showers. Today is one of the warmer days, with a hint of a breeze. Renjun is wearing overalls with a flannel over the top and his big straw sunhat. Whenever the wind starts to blow he has to quickly reach up and hold it on his head to keep it from flying away. Every time he does, he lets out a cute squeal of panic that has Jaemin’s gut in knots. 

 

“Let’s get these boxes in, shall we?” Renjun says, clapping his hands together and smiling up at Jaemin. 

 

He tries to smile back equally as brightly, but he doesn’t think he could match the grin Renjun is giving him right now. “How about you take that box over there?” Jaemin points to a box sitting a few feet away on the curb. “It’s filled with sheets and pillowcases so it won’t be too heavy.” It’s supposed to be a kind gesture but Renjun’s grin dissolves into a scowl.

 

“I’m a man, Jaemin. I can carry something heavier,” Renjun has his fist curled at his side and a defiant pout on his lips. If Jaemin wasn’t so worried about hurting his feelings he would coo at how cute he is. 

 

“I’m sorry, take whatever box you’d like,”  _ you big baby,  _ Jaemin adds in his head. 

 

“I’m stronger than I look, you know,” Renjun says sassily as he bends down to pick up a box labelled ‘SILVERWARE.’ 

 

Jaemin has a sneaking suspicion this will not end well. 

 

Renjun starts out just fine. He gets his hands under the box and lifts up with his legs. Once he’s standing, things start to go downhill. He’s tilting from side to side as the weight from the box sways away from Renjun’s center of gravity. Jaemin’s eyes go wide as dinner plates and he starts to rush over to stabilize him. However, Renjun seems to get his footing and peeks around the box to send Jaemin a confident smile. 

 

“I won’t doubt you anymore, Huang,” Jaemin says through a loud belly laugh. 

 

“You best not,” Renjun huffs. “I am a strong, independent man and I don’t need--”

 

CRASH

 

Renjun had tripped on the curb and is now laying face-down on the sidewalk, while the box of silverware took a softer fall onto the grass. 

 

“Oh my god, Renjun!” Jaemin hurries over to his side, turning him over to assess the damage.

 

“Ow.”

 

⭐️⭐️⭐️

 

Jaemin ends up taking his mattress inside first, so Renjun has something comfy to lay on while he finishes bringing the boxes inside. Luckily, he doesn’t have much, so the process doesn’t take too long. Although, his back feels extremely sore afterwards. But that doesn’t matter, there’s an adorable, pouty boy laying on his bed that Jaemin needs to take care of. In an entirely non-sexual way. But, for the record, Jaemin is totally up for the alternative. Put your wishes out into the universe and maybe someone will hear them, right?

 

But not now, because Renjun is curled up on his side with a gel ice pack pressed to his nose. It’s a good thing Jaemin had a mini first aid kit in his car. 

 

“Hey, does it hurt any less?” Jaemin asks softly. Renjun’s pride is obviously a little hurt and he’s afraid of making it worse. 

 

“No,” Renjun grumbles and looks up at Jaemin with slightly watery eyes. “It hurts.”

 

“Well, you face planted onto concrete so I’m not too surprised,” Jaemin says as he searches for the box with towels. When he finally finds it, he takes the fluffiest one and brings it over to Renjun, along with the first aid kit. “You have a scrape. Can I put some disinfectant on it?” 

 

“I’m not a child, Jaemin,” Renjun replies. “I can do things myself.” Contrary to his words, Renjun sits up and juts out his cheek for Jaemin to treat. 

 

“How old are you, anyway?” Jaemin asks, it’s mainly a way to distract Renjun from the sting of the alcohol. 

 

“I’m 28,” Renjun hisses out through clenched teeth as Jaemin dabs at his scrape. 

 

“Wow, you’re older than me. I never would’ve guessed.”

 

Renjun’s eyes narrow. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

 

“All it means is that you look much younger than you really are,” Jaemin soothes as he wraps Renjun’s ice pack in the towel so the cold is less harsh on his skin. 

 

“Thanks,” Renjun says softly. His eyes are wide and shiny as they look at him, little lights blinking up at him teasingly.

 

“You have really pretty eyes,” Jaemin blurts out before he could stop himself. He feels panic seep in through his skin and spread like a winter chill, straight through his chest. He’s never felt so nervous while flirting with a boy before. Compliments usually roll off his tongue and he never thought about how it could make someone  _ feel _ . That’s never what mattered before. All Jaemin really cared about was what he got in return. Now that he’s flirting without the intention of physical gratification, he feels so much more vulnerable. 

 

“My dad always said I have my grandma’s eyes,” Renjun says dreamily. Jaemin can’t explain the way his heart jumps; he barely knows this boy. Then, it hits Jaemin: he actually knows quite a lot. He knows his name is Renjun Huang, he loves gardening, he’s an amazing cook, has a delicate ego, and he has eyes that sparkle just like his grandma’s. Isn’t that enough? They’re sitting on a bare mattress in the middle of a bare house. Jaemin’s future seems so uncertain and fragile but this boy in front of him feels so solid. Jaemin doesn’t feel an ounce of doubt when he scoots closer, so their knees are touching, and starts to lean in. He waits for a moment, giving Renjun ample time to move away, to slap him, anything. But all he does is stare at him with those big, starry eyes and sets the ice pack down beside him. Renjun moves closer, so their noses are brushing. Jaemin rubs his nose against his, just to see the smile bloom on Renjun’s face. His nose is cold from the ice pack and everything about this seems a little silly and a little reckless. But right now, all he knows is that he wants to kiss Renjun like he would kiss the love of his life. Jaemin sends a quick prayer up to the clouds and tilts his head to press his lips against Renjun’s.

 

_ knock knock knock _

 

Renjun pulls away quickly, obviously startled by the loud noise. He looks at the door grumpily and goes to answer it before Jaemin can make a move to get up off the mattress. He swings the door open and Jaemin is worried that Renjun is going to slap whoever is on the outside. It’s partly flattering, partly terrifying. But Renjun doesn’t slap anyone. He just lets out a squeal of complete and utter happiness. 

 

“Minsun! Mark!” 

 

Jaemin groans internally. Of course it’s Mark that interrupted his potential makeout session. He only got to kiss Renjun for about two seconds and it was all because Mark Lee had to be a lovely person and come visit him on his first day in the neighborhood. Typical. 

 

“Oh, hello Renjun,” Jaemin can hear the surprise in his voice. “Is Jaemin here?” 

 

“Yes, he’s on the mattress over there,” Renjun says with his eyes fixed on baby Minsun. “Can I hold her?” He asks with clasped hands and a hopeful smile.

 

“Yeah, of course. If she lets you,” Mark laughs nervously. He hands Minsun over to Renjun, who immediately presses a kiss to her forehead and starts talking to her in a silly voice that has her gurgling up at him in joy. Jaemin feels his heart melt at the sight. 

 

“Hey, bro,” Mark walks over to where Jaemin is sitting on the mattress, still in a dumbstruck haze. “I thought maybe you’d like some help with the move?” 

 

“That’s very nice,” Jaemin says halfheartedly, “but I don’t think there’s much to do except put together some furniture and do some arranging. I can do that myself.” Jaemin genuinely appreciates the offer. What he doesn’t appreciate is that he isn’t kissing Renjun right now. 

 

Mark glances over towards the empty kitchen, where Renjun is coddling Minsun lovingly. “So,” Mark starts with a sly smile, “I see you’re getting to know your new neighbor.” His eyebrows wiggle unattractively as he’s talking.

 

“Shut up, Markles,” Jaemin hisses, eyes shifting over to Renjun to make sure he isn’t listening. “I was about to kiss him, you know.”

 

“Jaemin, you can’t do this to Renjun,” Mark says disapprovingly. “He’s too sweet. He deserves more than some flattering words and a quickie on a bare mattress.” 

 

“Who said I was gonna fuck him, Mark?” Jaemin can’t believe what he’s hearing. 

 

“Cut the crap, Jaemin,” Mark says with more malice than Jaemin has ever heard him use. “We both know you’re not gonna take the poor boy on a proper date. I’ve seen you do this time and time again at the bar.” 

 

“I’m not gonna  _ do _ anything,” Jaemin whispers harshly. “What if I told you that I genuinely like him? That I haven’t felt this way about someone in a long time?” 

 

“I’d say that if you really like him, you wouldn’t be trying to kiss him when you barely know him. Renjun is better than your games--”

 

“What are you guys talking about?” Suddenly Renjun is there, sitting besides Jaemin and bouncing Minsun in his lap. He has a curious expression on his face, but his eyes are a little harder than usual. He seems stiff, much less graceful in his movement. Jaemin rests his hand on Renjun’s lower back in an attempt to ease the tension. It seems to work, Renjun lets his back sag a little and leans into his touch. It’s subtle, but it solidifies what Jaemin knows to be true: Renjun isn’t like his past escapades. 

 

“Mark was just saying that he needs to head home,” Jaemin says rudely. 

 

“I think that’s a good idea,” Renjun nods his head in agreement. “Minsun misses Donghyuck.” 

 

“Poor girl,” Mark coos as he takes her from Renjun’s arms. “I miss Donghyuckie, too. Let’s go see if he’s done making supper, yeah? How’d you like some supper?” Mark talks to Minsun in a baby voice all the way over to the door. 

 

“I’ll see you and Donghyuck for tea tomorrow!” Renjun calls from his spot on the mattress. 

 

“See you then, Jun!” Mark replies. He looks over at Jaemin with a warning look before closing the door behind him.

 

“Jaemin, don’t listen to him,” Renjun says as soon as the door shuts. He grabs Jaemin’s hand and looks him straight in the eyes. “I know, okay? I know.” 

 

“Renjun, I think maybe you should go,” Jaemin tugs his hand away. “I need to get settled in, okay? I’ll see you around.”

 

“Alright, if that’s what you want.”

 

⭐️⭐️⭐️

 

Jaemin regrets making Renjun leave. He isn’t used to living in such a big place all by himself. He constructed his bed frame so he doesn’t have to sleep on the floor tonight and managed to set up part of a kitchen space so he could make himself some ramen. The house hardly feels like home. Not yet, at least. 

 

Jaemin is laying on his back, staring up at a white ceiling and listening to the frogs outside. Right outside his window, there’s a little pond in the backyard that’s filled with algae and lily pads with no flowers. Jaemin assumes the frogs like to convene there because their chirps are so loud, it sounds like they’re circled around his bed and giving him a personalized concert. 

 

Jaemin can hear something else, too. The sound of running water and a low melodic hum. He can tell it’s Renjun, just by the unique tone of his voice. He wishes he was with him. After only knowing Renjun for a couple days, Jaemin feels a pull in his gut that he can’t explain. It’s not love, it couldn’t be. But, he thinks it may be something equally as meaningful.  _ Companionship,  _ Jaemin’s brain supplies. That’s a nice way to think of it. Jaemin hasn’t ever had a  _ real _ companion before. Never had someone he could do the dishes with or could hike the himalayas with or learn how to ballroom dance with. He thinks he may have found that in Renjun. Every moment could turn into a memory as long as it’s with him. 

 

_ You’re such a sap, Na.  _

 

He doesn’t know how Renjun did it. He flipped a switch in Jaemin’s brain, put a spell on him, shot him with Cupid’s arrow. He must’ve done  _ something _ to make Jaemin into such a romantic puddle of goo. 

 

Jaemin thinks about what Mark said earlier. About how he doesn’t deserve Renjun. That may be true, maybe someone like him really isn’t meant to be with a boy so sweet and so witty. But, when he thinks back to the way Renjun pressed their foreheads together, the way he leaned into Jaemin, and the way he held his hand, he’s convinced that Renjun sees something in him that Mark can’t. The amount of trust he has in Jaemin is stunning, something truly magical. They’re practically strangers and Renjun believes  _ him _ over Mark Lee. There’s something very satisfying about that fact. 

 

Jaemin was about to roll over and try to get some quality sleep when--

 

_ knock knock knock _

 

It’s faint, his bedroom is on the second floor, but it’s there. Jaemin pushes himself out of bed and shivers when his bare feet hit the cold wooden floor. He makes a mental note to buy some slippers. He shuffles down the stairs and to the door, then peeks out the peephole. There is Renjun, with damp hair and blue striped pajamas, standing on his doorstep. Jaemin takes a moment to compose himself before opening the door. 

 

“Hey,” Jaemin says lamely. “Do you need something?”

 

“Umm, well, you see,” Renjun says while wringing his hands. “I need help. Could you come over for just a few minutes?”

 

“What do you need help with?”

 

Renjun cringes at the question. “Well, you see, I’m sort of afraid of moths,” Renjun manages to get out. “And there’s a really big one in my room and I can’t get it out.”

 

“You’re afraid of moths?” Jaemin has to choke down his laugh.

 

“Yes! They’re all creepy and papery and one time I found one in my underwear!” Renjun grimaces. “Usually I ask Jeno to help but he’s living in the city now so...”

 

“Lead the way, sweetheart,” Jaemin says cheekily. 

 

“Shut up,” Renjun shoots back. “I can’t believe my new neighbor is a total idiot.” 

 

“I can’t believe my neighbor is asking me to kill a moth for him past midnight,” Jaemin retaliates.

 

“I’m not asking you to kill it!” Renjun lowers his voice. It is late at night, after all. “I just want you to catch it and move it to somewhere that isn’t my bedroom.” 

 

“You know, Junnie,” Jaemin says, “I don’t think you should be bringing strange men into your bedroom so late at night.” 

 

Renjun’s ears get a little red at that. “You’re such a pervert, Na,” he grumbles.

 

“You know I’m not, right?” Jaemin asks under his breath. He still feels insecure from Mark’s brutally honest pep talk earlier. Renjun doesn’t answer. The silence makes Jaemin’s heart ache. It’s not silent at all, actually. The frogs are still loud as ever, Minsun is crying, and someone is playing the piano in one of the distant houses at the end of the street. Yet, the air seems so still and suffocating. However, when he feels Renjun’s hand slide into his, he catches his breath and the sound comes back in full volume. He looks down at their linked hands out of instinct, then up at Renjun. He’s looking at him with his bottom lip caught between his teeth and an expression that asks  _ is this alright?  _ Jaemin squeezes his hand in reply and smiles another one of his big, bright smiles. 

 

“Let’s go get this moth you’re so deathly afraid of.” 

 

Renjun and Jaemin make it over to his house eventually, but there’s no moth in sight.  _ It was there when I left, I swear!  _

 

But Jaemin doesn’t buy that for a second. 

 

“Are you sure you didn’t just miss me, Jun?” Jaemin asks playfully.

 

“Well,” Renjun starts nervously, “now that you’re here, would you like some tea?” 

  
Jaemin smiles, he seems to do that a lot around Renjun. It’s not the kind that pulls at your cheeks and makes them sore, either. It’s so genuine Jaemin thinks it would hurt  _ not _ to smile. The force of his happiness makes his lips tilt and his cheeks plump and his nose scrunch. That’s just the way it is. That’s just the way Renjun makes him feel. “Yeah, some tea would be great.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey there bubs! this fic was supposed to be a slow burn but renmin kiss in chapter 3 good lord... happy pride month ig! hope u enjoyed this thicc chapter special thanks to my favorite mark lee stan for existing (you know who you are) <3
> 
> ((pls excuse any spelling/punctuation/grammar mistakes i did my best))


	4. dinosaur nuggets

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: depression

Country life doesn’t come as easily to Jaemin as he would like. He gets up before sunrise, drives to work, stresses over furniture for eight hours, then treks back home. He always misses suppertime. And even after his gruelling day, Jaemin is obligated to work on fixing up his degenerate home. He has spent hours and hours hacking away at pesky weeds, tinkering with the rusty stove, spackling cracks in the walls, and painting the rooms pink or green or cream. Jaemin doesn’t think he’s ever worked so hard in his life. 

 

For the past three weeks, Jaemin has been focused on little other than work. He hasn’t seen Renjun at all, save for a few happenstance encounters in his front yard that consisted of nothing but a small smile and a wave. It makes his heart pang slightly, but he’s too focused on his personal endeavors to dwell. Sometimes, he thinks about Renjun when he’s trying to fall asleep. He’s the subject of many varying fantasies that entertain Jaemin when the croaking frogs outside his window keep him awake. There’s one that he particularly enjoys in which Renjun’s house is being robbed and he swoops in to save the day by knocking the burglar upside the head with a candlestick. After the police are called and everything is settled, Dream Jaemin tips his hat and starts to leave. Before he can reach the door, Dream Renjun jumps into his arms and kisses him silly, pulling him into his bedroom and pleading  _ please don’t go.  _ And Jaemin can’t say no to that face. The thought makes him shudder and bury himself deeper into his covers, even though the night is fairly humid. Jaemin isn’t the leading man type, not the type to save his pretty neighbor from an armed robber. But what’s the harm in indulging his imagination? 

 

For now, instead of being a knight in shining armour, he’ll focus on being the bare minimum polite neighbor. And being a polite neighbor means making sure his house isn’t lowering the average home value of Wensley Place. 

 

One morning, Jaemin wakes to warm rays of sunlight that have slipped in between the fluttering curtains above his bed. He leans into the light, opening his eyes slowly and breathing in the smell of fresh air coming through his window. He can smell Renjun’s jasmine plants, the fresh dirt he bought to start a veggie patch, and the clean scent of laundry hanging outside on a clothesline. He stretches his arms up towards the warmth, revelling in the feeling on his fingertips. Jaemin wishes he could experience this more often. It’s a shame he has to get up so early for work every day…

 

_ WAIT. _

 

Jaemin shoots out of bed, the clock by his bed reading a blaring 10:46.  _ Shit shit shit shit. _ Jaemin is approximately three hours late to work. He pulls on his ugly yellow and blue polo shirt and attaches his name badge (upside down, but Jaemin is too hurried to notice). He dashes out to his car, fumbling with his keys and almost dropping them. That morning, Jaemin had the most stressful drive of his life.

 

Finally, Jaemin pulls into the vast IKEA parking lot and sprints through the store, almost knocking over a gaggle of teenage girls as they look at a selection of bed frames. 

 

“Watch where you’re going, dumbass!” One of them shouts after him. 

 

“Sorry, ladies,” he yells over his shoulder with a well-aimed grin. They look less bothered after that. 

 

When Jaemin reaches the door to his boss’s office, he takes a pause with his hand hovering over the door handle. 

 

_ What’s my excuse? Fuck, I can’t just say I overslept. My grandma died! No, that’s too obvious. My girlfriend was giving birth? No, she can probably tell I’m single--  _

 

Suddenly, the door opens and Jaemin is met with the stern face of his boss, an eyebrow raised at him expectantly and her wrinkled mouth in a set frown. Her name is Mrs. Harris, a longtime friend of his mother’s and a real stickler for the rules.

 

“My grandma was giving birth!” Jaemin blurts out in a panic, immediately regretting saying anything. His boss may just be a manager at IKEA, but she’s a shrewd mother of four and he knows none of his bullshit will get past her. 

 

“Jaemin,” she sighs heavily and Jaemin can tell she’s more disappointed than anything, “stop the theatrics and sit down.” She gestures to the chair in front of her desk and Jaemin’s stomach drops. That’s the punishment chair. That’s the chair you sit in when you’re getting a real harsh slap on the wrist. He steels himself before sitting down, straight as a ruler and away from the back of the chair to minimize contact as much as possible. 

 

“I need to tell you something,” Jaemin says quietly. “My grandma didn’t really give birth.”

 

“Yes, Jaemin, I know that.” She says exasperatedly. “What I don’t know is why it seems you are  _ trying _ to get yourself fired.” She pours herself a cup of coffee before sitting in front of him, hands clasped and expectant. 

 

“What do you mean trying to get fired?” Jaemin asks incredulously. He can’t think of a single thing he’s done that would warrant a layoff… other than being almost four hours late to work today. 

 

“Jaemin, did you know that in the past two and a half weeks you have violated store policy eighteen separate times?” 

 

Jaemin scratches his head in thought, “that can’t be right… what have I done?”

 

“Well,” she starts with a wide grin, “how about we take a look at your file, Na Jaemin?”

 

_ Shit. _

 

“No, ma’am I don’t think that’s completely necessary--”

 

“On May 16th, you drove a forklift through the store while yelling ‘for Narnia’ and proceeded to crash into an expensive room display.” 

 

“Well, you see--”

 

“On May 17th, one day later, you told a young man he had the design taste of a ‘40-year-old spinster.’”

 

“He was provoking me!”

 

“May 20th you pretended to only speak Swedish, repeating the phrase ‘jag knullar din mamma,’ which translates to ‘I fuck your mom,’ to every customer that asked for your assistance.”

 

“Listen, how was I supposed to know that that kid knew Swedish?”

 

“Would you like me to go on, Jaemin?” Mrs. Harris asks sweetly, her sour expression giving away her true feelings.

 

“No, Mrs. Harris,” Jaemin says defeatedly, staring down at his lap.  

 

“I have turned a blind eye for too long because of how much I adore your mother, young man,” Mrs. Harris says pointedly. “However, this was the last straw. I refuse to tolerate any more of your insolence at this establishment. Please hand in your name tag, you’re finished here now.”

 

“You won’t let me finish out the week?” Jaemin asks desperately, he needs a job now more than ever. He’s fixing up a house, trying to establish a new life, saving so he can support a future family. 

 

“No,” she gives him another sickeningly sweet smile, obviously enjoying the power she has over him. “You’ve wasted too much of my time, already.” She holds out her palm for his badge, long acrylic nails tapping against one another as she flutters her fingers at him. He glares at her with as much malice as he can muster, which probably isn’t much, and places his nametag in her outstretched hand. 

 

“Now,” she says calmly, “please, get out of my store.”

 

⭐️⭐️⭐️

 

Jaemin makes a stop at the store before driving back to Wensley Place. He picks up some frozen dinosaur nuggets and a pint of dairy-free coffee ice cream, aka his quintessential depression foods. He reaches home at around 1:00 in the afternoon, feeling emotionally drained and a tad bit sleepy. He solves this problem by pulling off his IKEA polo and flopping onto his bed, not even noticing the tears falling onto his pillow until he feels the damp spot under his cheek. 

 

Jaemin wishes he could feel sorry for himself. He wishes he could come up with excuses and brush it off like he would with reprimands in highschool. This time, he can’t feel anything but shame. He’s turning 27 soon. Before he knows it, he’ll be 30. Eventually, his back will hurt too much to play soccer with a son. He’ll get too crotchety to braid his daughter’s hair. He’s living like a reckless teen in a grown man’s body and he knows if he isn’t careful, he’ll miss his window for a life of happiness. The weight of the world feels suddenly so much heavier and Jaemin can’t find the energy to pull himself out of bed and propel himself forward. So, he lays there and submits himself to the inevitable passing of time. He could almost feel himself degrading, turning into a puddle of mulch on his spring clean mattress. 

 

Jaemin knows the room is growing darker, colder. He can feel the rolling in his stomach that tells him it’s time to eat. It’s raining outside, a nice drizzle that’s welcome after a stretch of hot, early summer days. Everything smells a little woody and clean and so much like where he’s always wanted to be. Yet, so much is missing. He thought moving to the countryside was all he would need to feel happy and fulfilled. But he was wrong, a hollow feeling in his abdomen told him that much. 

 

_ knock knock knock _

 

Jaemin groans loudly, hoping the person at the door can hear. Jaemin is sure it’s Mark. He’s probably coming over with the toolbox he asked for the other day over the phone. He’s really not in the mood to have a conversation with Mark about why he’s home early and why he looks like he took a stroll through a hurricane. 

 

_ knock knock knock knock knock knock-- _

 

“Fucking hell, I’m coming!” Jaemin yells and pulls himself up from bed. He stumbles down the stairs and sighs loudly before throwing the door open, immediately feeling a flood of regret when he sees Renjun on his doorstep instead of Mark. 

 

“Is this a bad time?” Renjun asks tentatively, averting his eyes towards the ground so he doesn’t have to look at Jaemin’s nipples. 

 

“God, Renjun, I’m so sorry I thought you were Mark,” Jaemin rubs a hand over his forehead and breathes in deeply. “Do you want to come in? I was about to make some dino nuggets.”

 

“No, that’s okay, I don’t want to impose,” Renjun says to the patio. “I was just coming over to ask if you’re alright? I was out in the garden when you got home and you seemed distressed.” 

 

“Hey, look up at me,” Jaemin says with a big goofy grin, tapping the underside of Renjun’s chin. “Why are you acting so shy, Junnie?”

 

Renjun scowls and defiantly looks behind Jaemin’s shoulder, “I’m not shy, you’re just indecent.”

 

“Well you seemed so cozy with me two weeks ago--”

 

“Oh, shut up,” Renjun huffs, finally looking Jaemin in the eyes. 

 

“Your eyes are still  _ so _ pretty,” he says flirtatiously, wiggling his eyebrows to make the compliment seem less genuine than it really was. 

 

“Jaemin, why are you so upset,” Renjun didn’t fall for his attempt at a subject change.

 

“I just got myself into some trouble at work today. It’s not a big deal,” Jaemin shrugs off the question, not wanting Renjun to get a negative impression of him. If he already thinks he’s a total loser there’s no point in his pretty neighbor thinking so too. 

 

“Jaems...” Renjun starts uneasily, but then shakes his head like he doesn’t want to press any further. “If you ever need anything, I’m just a stone’s throw away. A meal, a friend, advice, some tea, anything you need.”

 

“Thank you, Renjun,” Jaemin says. “It’s appreciated, but I’m not just going to mooch off of you whenever I feel a little down in the dirt.”

 

“Well, regardless,” Renjun smiles and places a hand on his forearm, “you’re always welcome.” 

 

Jaemin puts his hand over Renjun’s, stroking his thumb across his knuckles, “I know, Renjun.”

 

“You sure you’re okay with eating dino nuggets tonight?” Renjun asks, pulling his hand away from Jaemin’s. “I made some pea soup and roasted veggies, it’d fill you up better.”

 

“No, that’s okay,” Jaemin says, frowning at how quickly Renjun pulled away from his touch. “Dino nuggets are kind of comforting for me.”

 

“Why?”

 

“Why what?”

 

“Why are dino nuggets so comforting, Jaemin?” Renjun asks through a bout of breathy laughter.

 

“My mom would let Chenle and I eat dino nuggets whenever he came to sleep over at my house,” Jaemin smiles fondly at the memory. “I think now I associate them with blanket forts and movies and laughter. They’re a representation of everything wonderful about my childhood in the city.”

 

“So... they’re nostalgic, then?” 

 

“Yeah, I guess they’re nostalgic.” 

 

“Hmm…” Renjun breaks eye contact again, looking down at a beetle crawling across Jaemin’s porch. “Could I try one?”

 

“Can you have one? Of course you can have one, cutie,” Jaemin says as he steps aside for Renjun to come inside. 

 

“Don’t call me cutie,” Renjun grumbles as he steps through the door. “I barely even know you.”

 

“I’m wounded,” Jaemin says sarcastically as he shuts the door behind them. “I invite you into my home, I slave over food for us--”

 

“You’re heating up dino nuggets.”

 

“--I offer warmth and hospitality, and this is the thanks I get?” Jaemin throws his hands up dramatically and preheats the oven for their supper. 

 

“Let me guess, you were a theatre kid,” Renjun shoots back.

 

“Actually, I was,” Jaemin’s eyes widen a bit in surprise. “How’d you know?”

 

“Intuition, I guess,” Renjun shrugs it off but his eyes shift away and if Jaemin didn’t know any better, he’d say Renjun is nervous. “Were you a leading man or more of an ensemble type?”

 

“Neither, actually,” Jaemin replies as he arranges their nuggets on a baking sheet. “I worked on the crew. I did just about everything behind the scenes at least once.”

 

“You seem like the kind of person who’d like the limelight,” Renjun says as he settles on an emerald green loveseat in the adjoining living room.

 

“You’d think so, huh?” Jaemin chuckles slightly. “I let my friends do all the performing… Chenle has been a star on stage since he could walk.”

 

“And you aren’t a star, too?” Renjun cocks his head in question. It’s very cute, Jaemin wants to run his fingers through his hair and rest his head on his shoulder. 

 

“When I was little, I played the piano,” Jaemin says nervously. No one but Chenle knows this story. “I really loved it, you know? It was the first time I’d ever been passionate about something. I practiced for hours every day, until my fingers would cramp and I knew all the songs my teacher taught me by heart,” Jaemin pauses his story to pop their dino nuggets into the oven. When he looks back up, Renjun is sitting on the loveseat with his whole body turned towards Jaemin and his hands clasped under his chin, waiting in anticipation for Jaemin to continue. “At the end of every year, my teacher held a recital, so her students could all perform and show their improvement and stuff,” Jaemin pauses again, visibly distressed by the memory he’s recounting. His eyes squint and his nose scrunches and he holds his breath for a little too long.

 

“It’s okay, I’m sure it’s not that bad,” Renjun says encouragingly from the loveseat.

 

“It’s pretty bad, Renjun,” Jaemin laughs disdainfully. “I was so excited to show everyone how hard I had worked and how much I knew. Especially my dad, he thought music was a waste of my time,” Jaemin hears Renjun let out a puff of annoyance at that. “But when the big recital came, I couldn’t do it, Renjun. I got up on stage and sat in front of the piano and rested my hands on the keys, but I couldn’t play a single note. I just totally blanked. My teacher had to apologize to the audience and drag me offstage by the scruff of my neck,” Jaemin scratches the side of his nose and looks up at Renjun, who’s staring back at him with a faraway smile on his face. 

 

“Can you still play?” 

 

“That’s what you got out of that whole story?” Jaemin says with fake exasperation.

 

“Answer my question, doofus,” Renjun rolls his eyes and sags backwards into the loveseat, putting his feet in the air and stretching out his legs.

 

“I haven’t tried in a long time, I sort of gave up when I was nine,” Jaemin says sheepishly, wondering if he could sound any more like a loser than he already does.

 

“You should try again sometime,” Renjun says, closing his eyes and smiling serenely. “You miss piano a lot.”

 

Jaemin is about to reply with a ‘ _and_ _how do you know that?’_ when the oven beeps loudly. All thoughts of piano fly from Jaemin’s mind. He’s just focused on one thing now: dino nuggs. 

 

Jaemin grabs two plates from one of his many kitchen cupboards and splits the dino nuggets between them (and maybe he sneakily eats two while Renjun is busy fiddling with a loose thread on his shirt). He arranges them as nicely as he can on the plates before picking them up and bringing them over to the loveseat, where Renjun has draped himself like some sort of princely stray cat. 

 

“Scoot over,” Jaemin says as he shoves Renjun to one side of the loveseat and plopping down in the very minimal space he created. 

 

“Hey! I was here first! How about you find somewhere else to sit, mister machismo,” Renjun huffs, taking a plate of dinosaur nuggets and turning so he’s sitting upright and Jaemin has a little more room to breathe. 

 

“I’m the one who slaved over this dinner, may I remind you,” Jaemin retorts. “And if you really can’t stand ‘mister machismo’ you might as well just go and eat dinner alone at your place.” 

 

Renjun had no reply other than to roll his eyes and take a bite from a dino nugget. 

 

“These taste like cardboard.”

 

“It’s heated up chicken goop in the shape of dinosaurs, did you expect it to taste like we’re at the Ritz?”

 

“Shut up, Na,” Renjun says disdainfully, kicking him in the shin with no real intent to harm. “My momma didn’t let me have things like this when I was little. She said they would stunt my growth.”

 

“And look where that got you,” Jaemin snorts in amusement as Renjun sits still and scandalized. “You’re tiny  _ and _ skinny as a twig.”

 

“This twig could still beat you to a pulp,” Renjun mumbles and eats another dino nugget.

 

“Is that so?” Jaemin asks devilishly and starts leaning towards Renjun slowly, maintaining eye contact as he awkwardly chews and shies away from Jaemin’s advance. Their faces are closer now, not as close as they were three weeks ago when they kissed on Jaemin’s mattress, but the air feels heavier nonetheless. Jaemin knows that Renjun can feel the tension when he sees him start to squirm across from him on the loveseat. “Can I ask you a question?” It comes out breathier than Jaemin would’ve liked, it sounds a little bit like he’s the one who’s nervous and not the other way around. 

 

“I guess.”

 

“Are you ticklish?” Jaemin asks, already sneaking his hand towards the side of Renjun’s tummy. 

 

“No, of course not,” Renjun scoffs. “I’m a grown man, I don’t-- NA JAEMIN STOP IT.”

 

Jaemin doesn’t want to hear anymore of Renjun’s lies so he takes matters into his own hands. He lunges forward and tickles Renjun’s tummy, fighting off the skinny arms and kicking legs that try to throw him off and focusing on the screeching laughter that’s filling the hollows of his empty home. 

 

“JAEMIN, PLEASE, STOP,” Renjun gasps out in between fitful giggles. Jaemin does stop. But

it’s mostly because he’s just realized he has his pretty neighbor pinned beneath him on his sofa and he’s not wearing a shirt. It seems that Renjun realizes the same because he bites the inside of his cheek and Jaemin can see the way his ears heat up. Jaemin decides not to tease Renjun about his flustered state and moves away, picking up their plates from where he had safely rested them on the floor and resumes eating like nothing had happened. 

 

“You know,” Jaemin says softly, suddenly hit by overwhelming affection for his dinner guest, “I don’t think they taste the same as they used to.” 

 

Renjun just hums and continues eating.

 

When their plates are as empty as the air surrounding them, Renjun gets up from his spot on the loveseat and lets himself out the front door. He does all this wordlessly, but leans down to kiss Jaemin on the crown of his head before he leaves. It says more than Jaemin ever thought a kiss could. And even though Renjun is gone and he’s alone, the house feels full (and so does he). 

 

⭐️⭐️⭐️

 

Na Jaemin has never been depressed before. He didn’t think he had the emotional capacity to feel depressed, really. However, it seems that everything on Wensley Place has been determined to prove him wrong since he arrived. 

 

Renjun hasn’t visited him for two weeks. Mark and Donghyuck have invited him over for dinner five times, he declined without fail. His parents have been blowing up his phone with thirty nine calls, voicemails, texts, emails. Jaemin has spent zero days working. He has spent fourteen days in bed, eating away his savings and watching porn (plus some cat videos to break up the monotony). 

 

He can’t find it within himself to pick himself out of bed. He can’t go searching for more work. He’s just resolved to let his body rot in this big empty blue house along with the tomato plant sitting on his kitchen counter. It was a gift from Renjun, but he’s given up on taking care of it and just pours warm beer dregs in the soil since it’s closer than the sink. Jaemin has never felt so disgusting. He considered shaving his head so he doesn’t have to worry about washing his hair. He realized that if he did that, he would be completely surrendering to his condition. Jaemin isn’t quite ready for that…

 

Yet. 

 

Jaemin wishes he could stop thinking. Usually, he would go to a random club and take home the first cute boy he laid eyes on. But he can’t even crave body heat, he doesn’t feel like he’s deserving. The last time he had someone so close is when he was with Renjun on his ratty green loveseat. If Jaemin closes his eyes, he can see the way Renjun shuddered, can practically feel it in his chest. He can feel the way his sharp hip bones dug into his thigh and hear how Renjun’s breath caught in his throat when he hovered above him. Something told Jaemin that Renjun wasn’t used to the feeling of vulnerability. Jaemin’s chest aches thinking about how Renjun’s eyes bore into his. There was something there, he knows it. If he were more naive he’d say it was lust, but he’s more in touch with emotion than he’s ever been, and he knows it was more. Jaemin burns white hot fire when he thinks of Renjun like this. He thinks, just maybe, that his idea of intimacy is being warped into something entirely unrecognizable. Nameless bodies and a colorful dancefloor no longer have the same appeal. Not when his incredibly alluring, sweet, witty neighbor is so close, yet so far.

 

All of the laughter and happiness that Renjun had brought into his home has gone. Some of it had turned to vapor and floated out the window. Some got caught on the flypaper hanging on Jaemin’s balcony and died a slow, painful death. The rest slowly seeped through the floorboards and settled into the Earth to be eaten up by the worms and fungi that fertilize Renjun’s flourishing garden. 

 

Jaemin can feel the hollowness in his bones. He thinks they must be able to snap like a bird’s. Floating in the newly empty caverns of his body, where there once used to be blood or a heartbeat or tissue, is the formidable feeling of wrongness. Jaemin knows that he’s gone wrong. Or maybe he always has been. Jaemin isn’t a very religious person, but he believes that people have a purpose. He can’t help but feel like he missed his. At some point on his path, he fell for worldly pleasures and was deemed unworthy of his own divine destiny. For God’s sake, he’s turning twenty seven in a month.

 

Jaemin decides it’s a good idea to start smoking. Maybe if he fills his lungs with ash, they’d feel less heavy with failure and more heavy with disease. 

 

That’s how he, once again, crosses paths with Huang Renjun. Jaemin is sitting on his housesteps, cigarette lit between his fingers and head between his knees when he hears someone clearing their throat annoyedly. He raises his head and smiles lazily at the sight of Renjun standing in the middle of his unruly front yard. He’s wearing denim shorts that end just above his knees, a loose button up, and his wide-brimmed straw hat, with a droopy daisy sticking out of the side. Jaemin takes another drag of his cigarette, still cringing at the feeling, but managing to not cough in front of Renjun. That would not be cool. 

 

“What the hell happened to you?” Renjun doesn’t sound angry. He sounds sad, disappointed, almost a little frightened. Jaemin would’ve preferred the alternative. 

 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Jaemin denies that anything is wrong, but he knows he looks like shit. He can’t remember the last time he shaved, his hair is greasy, the fly on his jeans is open, and the bags under his eyes portray how many sleepless nights he’s had in the past few weeks. 

 

“Get up,” Renjun says firmly, walking over to him and snatching the cigarette out of his grasp and digging it into the ground with his heel. 

 

“You’re not the boss of me, Huang,” Jaemin rolls his eyes but allows himself to be pulled to his feet and dragged over to Renjun’s car: a red 1984 Ford pickup truck with a lot of dents and a lot of scratches. “I didn’t realize you could actually drive.”

 

“How else would I get around?” 

 

“I don’t know I guess I thought you just flew everywhere,” Jaemin teases. “You look like a little pixie with that flower hanging out of your hat.”

 

Renjun looks nervously down at his feet and mumbles out a soft  _ “That’s ridiculous,”  _ then hops into the driver’s seat. 

 

The truck’s engine sputters to life and Jaemin hesitates for a moment.  _ Should I really be getting in the car of a man I barely know? Am I being kidnapped right now?  _

 

All of Jaemin’s rational thought flies out the window when Renjun turns to offer one of those sweet smiles and say, “I think you need to get out, Jaem. Stop gawking, just get in the truck and I’ll tell you where we’re going.”

 

Jaemin complies. 

 

⭐️⭐️⭐️

 

They’ve been driving for fifteen minutes and Renjun still hasn’t told him where they’re going. Jaemin is tapping his fingers on his thighs, unable to sit still for even a second. They had tried to turn on the radio, but received no signal other than static and the broken sounds of a crooning blues song. So now, they’re stuck in silence. Renjun doesn’t seem to be bothered, he’s too focused on the road to notice the tense quiet that Jaemin feels hanging in the air like a thick fog. 

 

They’re headed towards the hills, away from the city and towards the coastline. Jaemin remembers from hazy childhood memories that just behind those hills is Applewhite Cove, a small inlet with a rocky shore and little scuttling crabs. The long drive to Applewhite Cove was always worth the picnic Jaemin’s mom would pack and the day spent playing in the cold rippling water. 

 

“Are we headed for the coast?” Jaemin asks, and he chastises himself for sounding a little too hopeful. 

 

“Nope, not today,” Renjun replies, not meeting Jaemin’s gaze and opting to smile out the windshield. “We’re headed towards one of my favorite places on earth.”

 

“And where would that be?”

 

“Look out your window and you’ll see it.”

 

Jaemin turned his head toward the sight outside. It was all green. Monstrous trees frame both sides of the road, looming over the truck like angry giants. It makes Jaemin feel a little paranoid.

 

“It’s just trees,” Jaemin says with a frown. He had been hoping Renjun would take him somewhere interesting to escape from his sorrows. Like maybe a waterpark or a strip club. 

 

“Everything that you can see,” Renjun finally turns to glance at Jaemin, “it’s all Taeil’s forest.”

 

“Who’s Taeil and why are we in his forest?” Jaemin is getting nervous because this situation is getting increasingly similar to one he once saw in a horror movie. Granted, the murderer was nowhere near as tiny as Renjun and the victim was nowhere near as big as Jaemin. But still. 

 

“Taeil is a friend. He won the Powerball and bought all this land years ago to protect it from loggers,” Renjun explains dismissively. 

 

“He won the lottery and instead of buying a yacht or a mansion he bought a forest that he can’t profit off of?” Jaemin asks incredulously. He couldn’t imagine a worse way to spend your money. 

 

“He used what was left of his money to build a house for him and his husband on the property. Now they’re homesteaders. Isn’t that sweet?” Renjun says with a dreamy voice.

 

“Don’t homesteaders like… use their own shit as fertilizer.” This comment earns Jaemin a deep frown from Renjun. 

 

“Not all homesteaders do stuff like that…”

 

“Do Taeil and his husband do that?”

 

“His name is Johnny.”

 

“Who?”

 

“Taeil’s husband. His name is Johnny.”

 

“Okay, but do they use their own shit as fertilizer?”

 

Renjun is silent for a moment, but then bursts into a peal of laughter that makes Jaemin’s heart weak. 

 

“Honestly, they probably do,” Renjun says through a series of giggles. Jaemin can’t help but lose himself to laughter too. All of a sudden, they’re laughing with their full chests. Jaemin is slapping his knee and letting out silent gasping laughter while Renjun laughs loud, filling all the empty space. The fog has fully dissipated now, and Jaemin feels lighter than he has in weeks. Jaemin is so busy wiping his tears that he doesn’t notice when Renjun pulls into a dirt driveway and parks the truck. 

 

“We’re here, stupid.” 

 

Jaemin gets out of the truck to follow Renjun, who’s already skipping like a kid towards a low wooden fence. There are baskets on the ground by the gate, dozens of them stacked in an orderly mess on the forest floor. Renjun picks up two round baskets and gestures for Jaemin to come over. He has an excited little glint in his eye that Jaemin can’t help but indulge. 

 

“Renjun,” Jaemin starts hesitantly as he takes one of the baskets, “what are we doing here?”

 

“We’re going mushroom hunting!” Renjun exclaims, peeking at Jaemin’s face to gauge his reaction. 

 

“You dragged me all the way out here to go mushroom hunting?” Jaemin sighs, he shouldn’t have been so hopeful. 

 

“It’s fun!”

 

“I think your definition of fun is very different than mine.” Jaemin grumbles as Renjun opens the gate and they venture into the looming shade of Taeil’s forest. There’s a thin trail that cuts through the brush, not even wide enough to fit them side-by-side. 

 

“I think you’re just a grumpy goose,” Renjun shoots back. “Look! Jaem, it’s a chanterelle!” Renjun bends down to eye a frilled orange mushroom that reminds Jaemin of a tangerine peel. 

 

“Is that a good thing?”

 

“Yes, chanterelle mushrooms are edible and they’re all over Taeil’s forest,” Renjun says as he uproots the mushroom and places it in his basket. 

 

“How many times have you been out here?” Jaemin asks, catching up to an enthusiastic Renjun and walking close behind him on the trail.

 

“Oh, dozens,” Renjun answers halfheartedly, eyes fixed on the ground for more mushrooms to forage. “Taeil’s forest is like a candy store for mushrooms, they’re everywhere.”

 

“Can we take that one?” Jaemin points to a red mushroom with white spots. It looks like something he’s seen on television before.

 

“Oh, goodness, no,” Renjun laughs and kneels down in front of the mushroom, regarding it with loving eyes. “This mushroom is a fly agaric. Faeries live in them.”

 

“Faeries aren’t real,” Jaemin scoffs, leaning down to take a closer look.

 

“Yes they do, one helped me find a wonderful patch of morels just last week!”

 

“Really?” Jaemin asks with mock fascination. “Because the other day an elf told me you’re full of shit.” 

 

“It’s okay, he’s just a bitter old man with a closed mind and dysfunctional tendencies,” Renjun whispers softly to the fly agaric. 

 

“Hey! Don’t talk shit about me to a mushroom that’s so weird.”

 

“He says we’re weird,” Renjun says to the mushroom. 

 

“Junnie, can we eat that one?” Jaemin asks, pointing to a mushroom a few feet away with a brown cap and a thick, white stem. Renjun suddenly gasps and rushes over to it, immediately picking it and placing it gently into Jaemin’s basket.

 

“This is a hedgehog mushroom,” Renjun says, looking very pleased (Jaemin felt a surge of pride for spotting it). “I like cooking it into risotto.”

 

They continue on like that for a long time, Jaemin pointing to any fungi they come across and Renjun telling him if they could forage it or not. After one hour, Jaemin’s basket was filled with ink caps, chanterelles, yellow-gilled russulas, apricot jelly mushrooms, and his hedgehog mushroom. He’s learned a lot more about mushrooms than he ever thought he would. Renjun keeps spewing facts and tidbits about each mushroom they come across. Jaemin now knows that ink caps can cause nausea if consumed with alcohol, you shouldn’t pick fairy ring mushrooms that grow by the road for fear of exposure to car exhaust, and that each mushroom has a unique spore print that it can be identified by. If it were anyone else, Jaemin would be extremely annoyed at having to listen to someone prattle off about mushrooms for so long. 

 

But Renjun always manages to keep Jaemin interested. 

 

“Can I be honest with you?” Renjun asks suddenly as he inspects the gills of a golden chanterelle. 

 

“Yeah, sure,” Jaemin says nonchalantly, but secretly his heart rate has skyrocketed and his palms are sweating around the handle of his basket.

 

“On that day you kissed me,” Renjun doesn’t look up, “if Mark hadn’t interrupted us, would you have kissed me harder?”

 

“Almost certainly,” Jaemin says with ease. He was expecting a more difficult question than that. His assurance seemed to catch Renjun off guard, though. He hastily places the chanterelle in his basket and stands up quickly, moving like a startled squirrel. 

 

“I think we have enough, yeah?” Renjun asks, smiling at Jaemin before pushing him aside to lead the way back to the truck. 

 

They walk in silence for a while. It’s less uncomfortable now that they aren’t in a stuffy truck and Jaemin has all the room in the world to breathe. It’s a long walk back to the car, they’d been mushroom hunting for nearly two hours. Jaemin can feel Renjun’s question niggling at him like a loose tooth.  _ Why’d Renjun want to know that? Does he want me to kiss him again? Should I kiss him now?  _ Jaemin is sure Renjun can feel his internal panic radiating off of him as they walk, if his sly smile is anything to go by. 

 

“Renjun?” Jaemin decides to test the waters.

 

“Hmm?” Renjun hums in response.

 

“If I had kissed you harder,” Jaemin feels his heartbeat in his ears, “would you have kissed me back?”

 

Renjun thinks for a moment before looking at Jaemin in the eyes and saying, “Almost certainly.”

 

⭐️⭐️⭐️

 

Before Jaemin knows what’s happened, the sun has set and he’s alone in his blue house at the end of Wensley Place... again. 

 

Somehow, the empty air doesn’t feel as oppressive as it did before. 

 

Renjun had asked if he wanted to stay for wild mushroom risotto, but Jaemin had politely declined. He decided the less time he spent with Renjun, the less time he would have to make an ass of himself. 

 

Somehow, the house feels warmer than it did just that morning. Jaemin thinks that without his cold presence the sun must’ve had some room to stretch it’s rays through the windows and heat the place up a little. Jaemin is grateful to the sun for warming up his house. Jaemin is grateful to Renjun for giving it some space to breathe. 

 

That night, Jaemin doesn’t need convoluted fantasies to help him sleep. He falls naturally, lulled by the thought of magical fly agarics and the sound of someone humming in the distance. 

 

Somehow, Jaemin feels happy. 

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> https://youtu.be/wBr2O6_es2U
> 
> click on the link i dare u <333
> 
> (but seriously, do it)


	5. the dinner party

“Jaemin! You can’t just let the sprouts sit in the pan like that!” Renjun’s stressed voice rings shrill throughout the house (and probably through the whole of Wensley Place). Jaemin rolls his eyes slightly and reenters the kitchen.

 

“Renjun, I had to piss. It’s not like the sprouts would burn in the two minutes that I was gone.” 

 

“Well, they did!” 

 

“Oh…” 

 

Renjun very kindly agreed to help Jaemin prepare for a dinner party that he’s hosting to prove to his parents that he’s capable of living on his own. However, in Renjun’s opinion, he’s doing a terrible job of proving anything of the sort. 

 

“Yeah ‘oh,’ you absolute dumbass. Don’t worry about it, I’ll make another batch. Can you grab the olive oil for me?” Renjun says with a hint of exasperation as he throws out the ruined brussel sprouts. “While you’re at it, get me a glass of wine.” 

 

“Yes, ma’am,” Jaemin snickers and expertly dodges the brussel sprout that Renjun hurls at his head. 

 

As Jaemin is fetching things for Chef Renjun, he catches a glance out the kitchen window of a sleek, black car pulling up in front of his house. 

 

“Chenle’s here!” Jaemin shouts and rushes out the door. Renjun sighs and gets the olive oil himself.

 

Chenle and Jaemin had been together for the better part of their lives, and it hurt Jaemin more than he’d like to admit when Chenle had decided to move out of their apartment to be with his boyfriend. He  _ is _ happy to see him… but he’s also happy to show off his new life as a stable, successful, independent adult. In actuality, he is barely any of those things, but Chenle and his hotshot boyfriend don’t have to know that. 

 

“Jaem!” Chenle exclaims once he gets out of the driver’s seat, his eyes covered by huge Ray Bans and a wide smile plastered on his face. Jaemin immediately pulls him into a hug, Chenle is practically the embodiment of childhood warmth and he feels it seeping into his skin.

 

“It’s been way too long,” Jaemin says apologetically. He was the one ignoring all of Chenle’s calls a few weeks ago, after all. 

 

“Don’t worry about it, Jaem,” Chenle replies goodnaturedly. “Your mom told me you lost your job, so I knew you probably just wanted some space.”

 

Jaemin worries on his bottom lip as he thinks about how much time he had spent with Renjun, guilt gnawing at his stomach. 

 

“Yeah, I sort of went into full isolation mode for a bit there,” Jaemin laughs nervously. He’s not lying, he’s just not telling the whole truth.

 

“Hey there, Jaemin,” a deep voice says somewhere behind Chenle. “Long time, no see.”

 

“Jisung!” Jaemin reaches forward and pinches his cheeks. “I hope you’ve been treating Chenle well?”

 

“The best I can,” Jisung says nervously. Jaemin lightly pats his cheek, satisfied with this answer. 

 

“Let’s head inside, I abandoned Renjun with the cooking,” Jaemin says, beckoning his guests inside.

 

“Renjun is helping you cook?” Chenle asks with an eyebrow raised. “That sounds awfully domestic.”

 

“He’s only doing it in exchange for a portion of the food, don’t have too much faith,” Jaemin lies through his teeth, knowing fully well that Renjun just wants to help. No matter how much he whines about it. 

 

“Still, it’s a sweet gesture,” Jisung butts in.

 

“Yeah, he’s sweet,” Jaemin says without thinking. He ignores the knowing look Chenle sends him. At least Jisung still seems oblivious.  “Anyways, welcome to my home! She’s still a work in progress, but I’m pretty happy with how my work has paid off.” Jaemin allows himself to brag, he hardly gets the opportunity anymore and, really, he’s worked tirelessly on fixing up his beautiful, decrepit house. 

 

“It looks so much better than how it did when you bought it,” Chenle compliments him sincerely. 

 

When they walk in, the smell of food hits them like a truck. The air is filled with the sharp aroma of spices, orange peel, and herbs. To Jaemin, it smells like homecoming, and Renjun is standing right in the center of it all. 

 

“Hey! Come and help me, I’m not an octopus!” Renjun whines as soon as he sees that Jaemin has returned. Jaemin almost laughs at the sight of Renjun trying to tend to six dishes at once. He has two wooden spoons in his hands, ruffled hair, and a panicked glint in his eye. 

 

“Coming! Make yourselves comfortable, I’m gonna go help Junnie in the kitchen,” Jaemin says to Chenle and Jisung before going to face a peeved Renjun. 

 

“Finally! Can you  _ please _ take the chicken out of the oven? And then check on the asparagus? Also, maybe you could cut the strawberries? And then--” 

 

“Junnie, calm down,” Jaemin says with a smile, placing his hands on Renjun’s shoulders. “Breathe with me, yeah?” They take a few synchronized breaths before Renjun nods and silently points for him to take the chicken out of the oven. 

 

Just a few minutes later, there’s a knock at the door, and Renjun sighs before waving Jaemin away from the pan of asparagus to greet the newcomers. Jaemin whispers a small ‘thank you’ in his ear before going to the door. He leaves too quickly to see Renjun blush. 

 

“Minsun!” Jaemin coos when he opens the door.

 

“Wow, it’s good to see you too,” Mark says sarcastically, but Jaemin can hear the smile in his voice. Jaemin reaches out and gently rubs the pad of his thumb against Minsun’s cheek, who breaks out into a gummy smile and encases his thumb in her fist. 

 

“She likes you more than she likes me,” Donghyuck whines disdainfully. 

 

“Of course, I’m the cool uncle,” Jaemin jokes before prying Minsun’s fingers from his thumb. “Come inside. Mark, you’ve met Chenle, right?”

 

“Yeah, he used to drag your drunk ass from the bar every Friday night,” Mark snickers. 

 

“HAHAHA FUNNY JOKE MARK,” Jaemin says loudly, hoping Renjun didn’t hear from where he stood in the kitchen. Based on his focused expression, Jaemin is in the clear. 

 

“Why is Renjun cooking for  _ your _ dinner party?” Donghyuck asks.

 

“He’s a terrible cook,” Renjun butts in from the kitchen. “And he promised me six months worth of bread in return.” 

 

“What he’s trying to say is that he loves me,” Jaemin says cheekily. He doesn’t dodge the brussel sprout this time. 

 

⭐️⭐️⭐️

 

Jaemin purposefully told his parents to come a little later than his friends. It’s not that he doesn’t love them, because he does, it’s just that he’d rather have some time to speak more… freely than he would if his mother was around. 

 

“--and then he hallucinated that he was fighting Dora the Explorer,” Jisung finishes retelling the story of the first time Chenle took LSD. Yeah, he’s really glad his parents aren’t here. He’s also glad Minsun is too young to understand anything they’re saying. 

 

They’re all sitting in the living room, except for Renjun who listens in from the kitchen, hip leaning on the counter as he keeps an eye on the stove. The rest of them gather around Jaemin’s coffee table, Chenle and Jisung on the green loveseat while Mark, Donghyuck, and Jaemin sit on the floor. Minsun is asleep in Jaemin’s arms, she has her fist clenched around his thumb and refuses to let go. 

 

“What about you, Renjun?” Chenle asks as he wipes a tear of mirth from his eye. “What’s the craziest thing you’ve ever done?”

 

Renjun looks taken aback, but he maintains his ever-present poise when he answers, “oh, I haven’t done anything like that.”

 

“Come on, there must be something!” Donghyuck exclaims. “No one’s that clean-cut Renjunnie.”

 

“Well, I guess there’s one thing,” Renjun says hesitantly. Jaemin’s ears perk up and he leans forward in anticipation. “I used to sneak out of the house a lot, to see Jeno. My Gran caught me once and I was in a world of trouble,” Renjun smiles to himself, Jaemin knows he’s missing key pieces of the puzzle. He’s heard that name before.  _ Jeno _ . He can’t remember where, though.

 

“Was Jeno your friend?” Jaemin asks, too absorbed to even realize Minsun is using his thumb as a binky. 

 

Mark snorts loudly. “I’d say they were a little more than friends.”

 

“Shut up, Mark,” Renjun says as he rolls his eyes. “We were… involved.”

 

“What does that mean?” Chenle whines. “I thought we were actually going to get something interesting out of you, Renjun.”

 

“Chenle! Don’t be so rude,” Jaemin chastises, despite his own burning curiosity. 

 

“It’s fine,” Renjun laughs kindly. “We were boyfriends for several years. I met him when we were really young.”

 

Before anyone can ask anymore questions, and before Jaemin has time to process this information, there are a few sharp knocks on the door. 

 

_ Yikes.  _

 

Jaemin had been so absorbed in his friends’ antics that he had totally forgotten tonight’s objective: convince his parents that he’s a functioning adult. A truly ambitious feat. 

 

“Everyone,” Jaemin whisper-shouts to them, “discuss politics or computers or something. Mark, please sit up straight for God’s sake. Donghyuck, take your child and let her slobber over your own thumb for a while. Chenle, get off of Jisung this is a public space. Renjun, you’re doing wonderfully just stay like that.” His friends all groan in protest, but Jaemin ignores them and takes a deep breath. He hands Minsun over to Donghyuck and wipes his thumb on his pants. He feels like a man entering the battlefield. He may live, he may die. But regardless, he will fight with dignity. And with that in mind, he takes a few confident strides to the door, and opens it with intent. 

 

His manly courage leaves him the second his mother starts kissing his cheeks. 

 

“Oh, my beautiful baby Minnie, we haven’t seen you in  _ ages _ ,” she squeals as she grips his jaw and places big, wet kisses all over his face.

 

“Mom, stop it!” Jaemin whines with absolute disdain. “Come say hello to my friends. Chenle is here, too.” 

 

Chenle looks betrayed.

 

“Chenle, my sweet boy. How have you been, my darling?” She moves on surprisingly quick feet towards the living room and ambushes a frightened-looking Chenle. Jaemin feels a hand rest on his shoulder. 

 

“The house is looking good, son,” Jaemin’s father says simply. He’s always been a humble man of few words, and many actions. “If you ever need help fixing up, just let me know. Those corporate maintenance men will only con you out of your money.” His eyes crinkle into a squint as he smiles at Jaemin with a mouth full of coffee-stained teeth. 

 

“Thanks, dad.”

 

“Minnie, baby, do you need help with the food?” His mom calls from the living room. She has finished fussing over Chenle and is ready to take on another task. 

 

“Nope, don’t worry about it,” he says confidently. “Renjun and I have got a handle on it.”

 

“Which one is Renjun?” She looks around the living room with probing eagle eyes. 

 

“Hello, ma’am,” Renjun’s voice calls from his spot behind the stove. “I’m Renjun Huang, Jaemin’s neighbor.”

 

“Is my boy making you slave in the kitchen for him?” She asks plainly. Renjun looks over at Jaemin awkwardly and he hopes from his pleading expression that Renjun will help him out.

 

“Of course not, I volunteered to help,” Renjun smiles politely and smooths out his apron. “Jaemin has been such a…  _ lovely _ neighbor. I just had to repay him somehow.” Okay, maybe Renjun is going a little too far. 

 

“Really? My Jaemin?” She responds with surprise and a hint of pride. Renjun nods his head vigorously. 

 

“Of course! I think he must be the most considerate, giving, put-together neighbor I’ve ever had,” Renjun says much too enthusiastically. Jaemin flushes as his friends snicker from the living room, everyone but his mother picking up on Renjun’s blatant sarcasm. “The first day he moved here, I hurt my head and he helped me treat it. He’s made me dinner, he’s gone mushroom hunting with me, he helped me catch a moth that was terrorizing me in my bedroom.” Renjun counted off his fingers and Jaemin smiled. Their friends were still chuckling in the living room because none of them know. None of them need to know, either. Jaemin is very happy to keep this between him and Renjun. 

 

“I’m impressed, Minnie,” his mother says, sounding slightly disbelieving. “I suppose you’re a bit more grown up than I thought.”

 

_ Yes! Thank you so much, Renjun. _

 

“Of course I’m grown up, mom,” Jaemin says with feigned exasperation. “I’m twenty-six years old.”

 

“I know that, dear. It’s just that you’ve always been something of a… free spirit,” She says lightly, probably doing her best not to hurt Jaemin’s feelings or humiliate him in front of his friends. It still stings a little. 

 

“How about we all move over to the table?” Renjun cuts in. “The food is ready to go and we don’t want it to get cold.” 

 

The conversation is forgotten as everyone finds a place at the table and chats about Chenle’s upcoming musical, while Renjun and Jaemin get food onto the table. As they bustle around the kitchen, Jaemin runs a gentle hand along Renjun’s back as a silent thank you. Renjun reciprocates with a small nod.  

 

Soon, everyone is settled into their places and happily gobbling down the feast that Renjun and Jaemin (mostly Renjun) had prepared. The conversation has stayed amazingly light so far, and Jaemin is impressed by the civility of his friends. It’s rare he sees them being so polite and cautious. Maybe Jaemin should’ve invited his parents over sooner. Jaemin’s heart was soaring with how well things suddenly seemed to be going. He has a house in the countryside, friends, a cute neighbor, good food, and, most importantly, the approval of his mother. 

 

However, the peace was quickly broken. 

 

“So, Donghyuck,” Jaemin’s mother says suddenly, amidst a discussion about Renjun’s herb blend for the chicken. “I see you have a ring on your finger. Why couldn’t mummy make it tonight?” 

 

_ Uh oh. _

 

Donghyuck looks over at Jaemin cautiously, afraid he might say the wrong thing. Jaemin tried to communicate with wide eyes and a slight shake of his head, hoping Hyuck would get the gist. He shifts Minsun on his lap, smiles as he says, “well, this girl is actually adopted.” Jaemin releases his breath. That was a good save. But, Jaemin’s mom isn’t done yet. 

 

“A single father, then?” She sounds positively scandalized. “It’s not totally unheard of, I suppose. God bless your soul, darling. How do you fare without a mother? It must be so difficult,” she says pityingly. Jaemin is starting to feel slightly sick to his stomach. 

 

“I’m actually not a single father,” Donghyuck says matter-of-factly. “Mark is my husband. We do very well by ourselves, but thank you for the concern.” 

 

“I see.” Jaemin’s mother sets her fork down and wipes her mouth with a napkin, a grimace pasted onto her face. Awkward silence washes over the table. From across the table, Chenle and Jisung stop holding hands under the table. Renjun bites his lip and fidgets in his seat. 

 

“Mom, would you like some more food?” Jaemin asks, desperately trying to undo the discomfort suddenly imposed on his dinner guests. 

 

“No thank you, honey. I’ve quite lost my appetite,” she replies, eyeing Donghyuck, who sits at the end of the table with Minsun fast asleep in his arms. 

 

“I think we should get going, Jaems,” Marks speaks up, already getting out of his seat and gathering his and Donghyuck’s dishes to take over to the sink. 

 

“I agree,” Donghyuck says pushing out his chair and grabbing his coat from one of the brass hooks by the door. “I think the little one is ready to be tucked into bed.”

 

“Thank you for having us, really. It was very nice to meet you, Chenle and Jisung,” Mark says good-naturedly before tipping his head at Mr. and Mrs. Na and hurrying out the door with Donghyuck and Minsun. 

 

The silence that follows the slam of the screen door is painful. 

 

“I’m sorry if I insulted your friends, Minnie,” his mother says, sounding completely unapologetic.  “I guess I just didn’t know that you would associate yourself with those types of people.” 

 

“It’s fine, mom,” he says quietly. Chenle looks about ready to cry, he’s always been very close with his mother. Renjun seems surprisingly composed, just a little stiff. 

 

“You know, it’s starting to get quite dark and we have a long drive back to the city,” Jisung inserts smoothly. “I think it’d be best for us to head out too, yeah?” He looks encouragingly at Chenle, who smiles back and nods, clearly grateful for the escape. 

 

“Thank you so much for the meal,” he says to Jaemin. “It was good to see you Mr. and Mrs. Na.”

 

They leave, and it’s just Jaemin, Renjun, and his parents. 

 

Jaemin’s mom clears her throat, “So, Renjun, how much rosemary did you say you put into the herbed chicken?”

 

⭐️⭐️⭐️

 

When Renjun and his parents finally leave, he doesn’t stop himself from crying. He lets the tears take their path, down the slopes of his cheeks and onto his dining room table. He counts the spots of sodden wood as they appear: one, two, three, four. When he gets to sixteen, Jaemin hears a knock on the door. 

 

He gets up from the table, feeling dead on his feet. He wipes the tear tracks from his cheeks and rubs his tired eyes. He already knows it’s Renjun at the door, and he’d rather not look so pathetic. As delusional as it is, he’d like to think he could be a source of strength for Renjun. 

 

When he opens the door, Renjun is standing on his doorstep again. “Are they still here?” He asks quietly, peering past Jaemin and into the empty house.

 

“No, they left about fifteen--” before Jaemin can finish, Renjun pushes himself into the house, closes the door behind him, and throws his arms around Jaemin’s neck. 

 

“Hey there,” Jaemin laughs, barely heard since his face is mostly buried in the crook of Renjun’s neck. “Didn’t get enough of me earlier, I see?” 

 

“Shut up, dork. I know you’re not actually okay so quit pretending,” he says back, all bark and no bite. 

 

“Well, I’m much better now that you’re here,” he whispers in Renjun’s ear flirtatiously. 

 

“Na Jaemin,” Renjun whispers back, “I’m going to castrate you.”

 

“That’s pretty sexy.”

 

“Stop deflecting and tell me how you’re feeling,” Renjun says impatiently, shifting from foot to foot, swaying them both from side to side. Jaemin felt the rhythm healing him. 

 

“Well I’m not surprised by anything, if that’s what you were wondering,” Jaemin moves them towards the living room. Still holding onto Renjun and still swaying, like some sort of clumsy ballroom dance. “She’s always been more on the conservative side.”

 

“Why didn’t you tell her?” 

 

“Tell her what?” 

 

“That you like boys, Jaem,” Renjun says exasperatedly. 

 

“Her opinion doesn’t matter to me, Junnie. Why would I tell her when we’ve lived in peace for years? It doesn’t matter to me enough to ruin that.” Jaemin rests a hand on Renjun’s head and strokes his hair. He understands the implications of the position they’re in. He understands that this is so much more intimate than anything he’s ever experienced before. Yet, he still lets himself collapse backwards onto the green loveseat, Renjun still in his arms, head resting on his chest. 

 

“Do you not feel like you’re lying to her?” Renjun props his chin up on his hand to look Jaemin in the eyes. “What if you decided to settle down? With a boy, I mean.”

 

“Well, we’ll cross that bridge when we get to it,” Jaemin shrugs. “For now, I don’t need to, so I’m not going to worry about it.”

 

“You said ‘we,’” Renjun rests his cheek against Jaemin’s chest again and circles his arms around his neck. He hopes Renjun can’t feel his heart pounding. 

 

“Yeah, I did.”

 

“Are you gonna take it back?”

 

“No, I don’t think I will.”

 

A pause. Jaemin can practically hear the gears in Renjun’s head turning. “Oh, okay,” he finally says. 

 

“What about you?” Jaemin asks.

 

“What do you mean?” Renjun tilts his face up to meet Jaemin’s gaze again. 

 

“Did you tell your parents?” 

 

“Yeah, I did,” Renjun smiles softly and shuffles up to press his nose into the crook of Jaemin’s neck, just as Jaemin had done earlier. Renjun’s breath was tickling him, but he doesn’t really mind. “My family is a little more open-minded, I think.”

 

“What are your parents like?” Jaemin wonders aloud, dragging his fingers through Renjun’s hair.

 

“They were lovely, Jaems. We didn’t have a lot of money when I was little, but they never let the financial stress get to me. I’m sure there was a lot going on behind the scenes, but they were always so loving that I never knew,” Renjun says serenely. 

 

“Where are they now?” Jaemin asks, confused by Renjun’s use of the past tense. 

 

“They got sick,” Renjun says simply. Jaemin’s heart jumps into his throat. 

 

“I’m sorry, Junnie,” he says breathlessly. He takes one of Renjun’s arms, that had been curled around his neck, and puts it on his chest before taking ahold of his hand. 

 

“It’s okay, Jaem, really,” Renjun squeezes his hand. “My grandma was there for me. So were Jeno, Mark, and Hyuck.”

 

“You know that I’m here for you, too, right?” Jaemin mumbles, slightly under his breath. 

 

Renjun brings their intertwined hands up to his lips, kisses one of Jaemin’s knuckles.

 

“Yeah, I know,” he rests his head back on Jaemin’s shoulder. “Thank you.”

 

Jaemin closes his eyes. “Anytime.”

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ahha what if I had regular updates that would be a funny joke. I'm sorry this took me two months and it's barely edited I am ashamed. Hope u still enjoy renmin's weirdly ambiguous relationship and annoying flirting <3
> 
>  
> 
> p.s. to my beautiful, amazing, wonderful Jeno stans out there... he will be having a more significant role in upcoming chapters so please be patient I love you all sm

**Author's Note:**

> heya bubs, I hope you enjoyed this! There's more to come, of course. Feel free to comment or leave kudos, but if you don't that's okay I'm happy to just have a reader. I hope this brightened someone's day mwah


End file.
